


Taking a Shine

by PygmyHippo (Kynfylgia)



Category: Story of Seasons: Trio of Towns
Genre: Bootblacking, F/M, Rated M for Safety, Sexual Tension, kind of, technically sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 11:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14933384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kynfylgia/pseuds/PygmyHippo
Summary: "If you would take a look, you would see that I am about to clean my shoes, my dear.  May I ask, what else, in your opinion, should I be doing with a rag and shoe-polish? As far as I am concerned, this situation does not lend much room to alternative interpretations."Or does it?





	Taking a Shine

"Ah, Nastja."  
Ford smiled involuntary, as he always seemed to do whenever he saw her, and she returned the greeting with a bright smile of her own.  
  
For a moment she waited in the doorway of his clinic, almost as if she hesitated, though Ford knew that she just liked taking in the view and preferred to know what was going on before barging into a room. It was a bit quirky, without a doubt, but from the very beginning, long before he even had considered her a friend, Ford had liked this little peculiarity about the woman he now called his lover.  
“Heya, whatcha up to?” asked she, with a soft laugh accompanying her voice as she took another step into the clinic.  
  
With a nod of his head he gestured towards a small basket, set beside the comfortable armchair he used for interviews with his patients, doing his paperwork and basically any of his work-duties that allowed for a mildly unprofessional, sitting position. He rarely indulged himself, but this chair was one of the few exceptions.  
  
“If you would take a look, you would see that I am about to clean my shoes, my dear. May I ask, what else, in your opinion, should I be doing with a rag and shoe-polish? As far as I am concerned, this situation does not lend much room to alternative interpretations. Especially”, he grimaced and pointed at his shoes, “if you take into consideration the sorry state of my footwear. As nice of a town as Westown might be, I, for one, could do with less dust. The surroundings have proven to be quite beneficial in many circumstances, but alas, keeping things clean is not one of them. So, if you would excuse me for a moment, if you would like you can wait upstairs, or, if it does not bother you, you may keep me company during this task, would you?”  
  
“No, I don't think I will. That is, neither will I excuse you nor will I wait,” Nastja said.  
It only took her a few quick strides and before Ford could even try to comprehend her words, she stood before him, a soft, loving smile on her lips, which she lightly pressed onto his forehead before she went down on one knee before him.  
Still smiling, she looked up at him. “How about I shine your shoes and you, well, I dunno, how about you just sit back and relax? Consider it a treat, you certainly deserve one. And I,” an almost cheeky grin flashed over her face, “ah, I just like to be of use. So, would you kindly allow me to relieve you of this task?”  
  
It took Ford a moment to realize Nastja had asked him a question and was, most likely, waiting for an answer. He nodded, shrugging slightly. Why should he refuse her? It did seem a bit unusual, but still, a kind gesture. He was well aware of the fact that some people shone shoes for money, but he had never heard of it in the context of friendship or a more serious kind of relationship.  
“If you want to, I see no reason why not. But please, do not feel obliged to do so, I am quite able to do it myself and,” he looked her over, kneeling in front of him, her head slightly raised to meet his gaze, exposing her throat and delicate collarbones in an entirely new, almost vulnerable way, “please, make yourself comfortable. There really is no need for you to kneel on the floor, just, erm, take a seat, I will bring you my shoes in a moment.”  
  
A soft chuckle escaped his lover's throat. “Oh, don't worry. I am quite comfortable right where I am and you know,” carefully she reached for his left ankle, slowly lifting his foot up to her knee, “in my opinion, the best results are achieved if the shoes are left were they belong. That is, on the feet of their wearer.”  
She moved slightly, making sure to be in an agreeable and steady position, before she placed Ford's left foot firmly on her knee. With her right hand still on his ankle, she raised her left almost up to his knee, her fingertips ghosting over the fabric of his trousers, trailing softly down his calf until her left hand came to a rest on his ankle as well, securing his foot in place and thus freeing her right hand.  
  
“Mhh, have I ever told you that I quite like your taste in clothing? You always look so neat and, well, dapper. Oh, and please let me know if anything's awry. I wouldn't want to put a strain on your leg, after all, you should enjoy this.”  
While she had been talking, Nastja had used the fingers of her right hand to untie his shoelaces and was now removing them, weaving them out of each eyelet individually, slow-going, but deftly.  
This done, she diligently put them aside and grabbed a soft brush out of the woven basket Ford used for his cleaning supplies, allowing him a glance at her neck, bending over his foot to reach the basket.  
  
Ford leaned back in his armchair, trying to relax, trying to ignore the heat rushing into his cheeks. Watching Nastja cleaning his shoe, tenderly brushing the dust from the leather, inching her face closer, her lips slightly parted to blow away a few remaining specks of loose dust, was quite mesmerizing, but at the same time confusing. She was, after all, just cleaning his shoe. There was nothing extraordinary about it, or at least nothing he, or anyone else, should feel ashamed of. Still, he felt almost dirty for watching her. The way she knelt on the floor before him, quite literally at his feet, every touch and every move so meticulous and deliberate yet at the same time caressing and almost sensual. It felt intimate, perhaps even indecent, while seeming at the same time so perfectly innocent. Her dainty fingers stroked over the leather, checking for any cracks or fissures before applying a small bit of saddle soap, removing the last traces of dirt with a soft piece of cloth. She was not using a lot of force, but Ford could clearly feel it, even though the firm rubbing movements were muted by the soft leather of his shoe and the sock underneath it, resulting in a gentle pressure on his foot, wherever she touched his shoe with her cloth. He could not help himself but to sigh at this novel sensation and he felt it was almost impossible not to relax, while feeling strangely agitated at the same time. Nastja, who had remained silent for a while, quite caught up in her work, chuckled lightly upon hearing his sigh but kept her gaze down, hiding her pleased smile from Ford and continued her cleaning as if nothing had happened.  
  
Once again she shifted her position slightly, lifting Ford's foot in the process, holding it firmly with her right hand while keeping her balance with the other, inspecting the work done so far. Content with the cleanliness of the shoe, she settled again into a more comfortable position and reached for the wax-tin. There was a soft, clicking noise, when she opened it and put the lid and the tin on the tiled floor next to her. Ford expected her to reach for another piece of cloth, he knew he kept one for this exact purpose, and he held his breath for a moment when instead she applied the wax directly onto her delicate fingers and started to massage it into the leather. Carefully her fingers moved in circular motions across his shoe, working the wax into the supple leather, the pressure varying ever so slightly as to not be uncomfortable on the more sensible parts of his foot. Every now and then she moved her fingers to the tin, reapplying some wax, before continuing with, what Ford could only call a foot massage in disguise. He had stopped all efforts to appear unaffected, unable to hold his breath forever and equally unable to keep his breathing even, he felt his chest rising with every slightly ragged breath, his heart pounding violently.  
  
He felt almost relieved when he saw Nastja taking the polishing brush, bringing the final shine to the leather. His eyes followed each and every of her motions, his gaze sometimes wandering over her body, resisting the urge to touch her. There was no sense in disturbing her, as much as he wanted to tuck away the loose strand of red hair that almost fell into her eyes or to softly cup her cheek, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze, losing himself in their depth, even if only for a moment. Instead he continued to watch her, let his eyes follow her fingers as she was, almost painfully slow, weaving his shoelaces back into the eyelets. After tying them up, she rested one hand on his calf for a moment, examining her own work, listening to Ford's breathing, before finally setting his foot down to the floor again.  
  
She looked up, a cheerful expression covering her slightly blushing face. “Well, all nice and done. Hope everything's to your complete satisfaction. Mind if I stretch my legs a moment before I start with the other?”  
  
Ford looked down at her, watched how her tongue flicked out to quickly wet her lips, taking in her flushed, lively expression.  
“I, er, I mean, perhaps, well, ahem, we, that is, you, hrm, what I am wanting to say,” he swallowed hard, suddenly aware just how agitated he felt, now that the spell was broken and nothing left to concentrate on, “how about, well, a, ah, a break. Just for... Just for now. I, I think I might, just give me a moment... So. How about we head upstairs and, ahem, continue this at an, hrn, later time.”  
  
Eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, Nastja laughed. With one quick, fluid movement she was back on her feet, offering Ford her hand to help him up, stealing a glance or two elsewhere, but for most the time, looking him straight in the eyes.  
“It'd be a pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this story, if you would like to leave a comment it will be appreciated, if not, that's totes okay. In case of any misapplied tags, please let me know and I'll change them accordingly.


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